A Blue Cap
by Fear-Of-The-Cold
Summary: A shot rings out in the night, then silence falls again. But has a hero fallen with it?


Note: Haven't yet decided if this will be continued or not but for now its just a oneshot. as always please read and review! Also i apologize in advance for spelling/grammar errors I only have my phone at the moment and its not easy to proofread from...

"Pass the coffee, Carter," Hogan said, trying not to show just how tired he was but betraying his attempt by leaning his elbow on the barracks table and resting his head upon it.

Most of the men of barracks two were sound asleep in their bunks, despite the lamp still shining on the table in the middle of the room. And despite the occasional voices of three of the barracks regular night owls still sitting up, huddled around the lamp and trying to stay awake. Hogan, Kinch and Carter were no strangers to late nights waiting for news, and the rest of the men were no strangers to sleeping through the other men's restlessness.

"Are you sure sir?" Carter asked as he passed the now barely lukewarm coffee pot to the Colonel, "My mother always said, coffee after eight keeps you up to late."

"If the boys don't get back soon I think we're in for a late night no matter what Carter," Kinch sighed.

"They're not very late yet," Hogan stated, more for himself than anything as he poured all three of them another cup.

It was true, Hogan told himself. Lebeau and Newkirk were barely half an hour past the time allotted for their return. Nothing out of the ordinary. Still, anytime it looked as though he may have sent his men into something that had gone wrong he began to second guess. Perhaps he should have gone with them after all. Maybe they hadn't vetted this underground contact thoroughly enough...

And then, through the silence that had enveloped not only the barracks but all of Stalag 13 - a shot rang out.

And then another.

The three men at the table immediately stood up, none of them daring to breathe. The rest of the man in the barracks were roused from their sleep, for lamps and voices they were used to. Gunshots they were not.

For a moment no one moved, taking a second to let the significance of the sound sink in. Then finally, Kinch broke the silence.

"Maybe it wasn't them sir. It could be anything, anyone."

Hogan broke out of his reverie and shook his head. It was time to get to work.

"To much to hope I think Kinch. You get down in the tunnel and hop on the radio. See if anyone nearby knows anything, or heard anything, at least then maybe we can pinpoint the location. Carter, poke your head out and see what's going on. If that shot woke everyone here up, chances are old Klink is up too. See if you can get to Schultz before he does. Olsen, take the tunnel and head over to barracks 8. Wake Wilson up if he isn't already and get him to the tunnel just in case we need a medic. Garlotti, you and Parker.."

Hogan barked a stream of orders, preparing for the worst but also keeping his mind off of what that worst might be. And giving his men something to keep their minds occupied with so they could do the same...but eventually he ran out of orders.

"And you Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"I'll head to the tunnel with you," Hogan said. That was where they would hear news first.

And so they headed down to the radio to begin another long wait.

88888888

And it was a long wait. Kinch has contacted very underground contact they had, but none had any knowledge of anything out of the ordinary. Carter had joined them not long after heading out to find Schultz, and reported that Klink had simply blamed the sound on a passing car that backfired and returned to his bed. Wilson had also joined them, medical equipment in hand.

It had been an hour now since the shots had been fired, and it was now up to every 5 minutes that Hogan contemplated going out and looking for his missing men. And so every 5 minutes he told himself once again that they had no confirmation that anything had happened, only that there were men in the woods shooting and therefore it was to risky to head out themselves. But how he wished he could do something. Anything...

Carter heard it first.

"Does anyone else hear that? Sounds like a lid scraping when a jar opens, y'know?"

Hogan's eyes met Kinch's.

"The emergency tunnel," Kinch stated, causing Carter's eyes to widen in understanding.

"Let's go," Hogan said, already on the move.

The other men were hot on his heels so that they all rounded the last bend in the tunnel at the same time. And the first thing they saw was Lebeau's back descending the ladder from the concealed entrance above.

"Lebeau!" Carter exclaimed, "Boy are we glad to see you, you gave us all a good scare there, I tell you what..."

He trailed off as Lebeau reached the bottom of the tunnel and turned to face them.

The French Corporal's face was white as a sheet, in stark contrast the black turtleneck and pants he wore. Or rather, what had been a black turtleneck. As Hogan saw in a horrible realization, Lebeau's sweater was now tinged with a dark, wet, crimson shade that could only be blood.

Wilson rushed in as Lebeau stood silent, unspeaking, eyes focused somewhere over Wilson's shoulder as he tried not to look at the blood that covered his front. Hogan nodded to Carter, who went running back up the tunnel for a chair and supplies. From the look of Lebeau, he wasn't going anywhere. Hogan and Kinch hurried to his side to help Wilson as they could.

"Where are you hit LeBeau?" Wilson asked impatiently as he tried to get Lebeau to sit.

The sound of Wilson's voice seemed to awaken Lebeau and he finally met the medic's eye.

"What?"

He sounded faint, and confused by the question.

"He asked where you are hurt?" Hogan repeated the question, "You're back now LeBeau, everything's okay. Just let us help you."

Even as he said it, Hogan spared a thought for his other corporal who had yet to appear. They'd split up, that'd be it, to draw the Germans away. Newkirk would climb down that ladder any moment...

LeBeau's haze shifted to meet Hogan's, still with a far off not quite seeing him look in his eye. Just then Carter arrived with a chair and Wilson pushed LeBeau down onto it. LeBeau sat without protest, still staring at Hogan as though he did not quite know what to say while Wilson pulled at his sweater and continued to search for injuries until he finally realized...

"Colonel," Wilson said quietly, "I don't think it's his blood."

At that LeBeau's gaze shifted downward as he began to shake slightly. His eyes looked down at something in his right hand that Hogan had not noticed until now. Every man in the room followed LeBeau's gaze so they all saw it at the same time when LeBeau finally opened his fist and revealed a scrunched up blue cap stained with spots of red.

Hogan inhaled sharply and looked up to LeBeau just before the Corporal's face crumpled in a pain not caused by any injury.

"It was in his pocket," LeBeau whispered earnestly, as though willing the Colonel to understand, "I don't know why but he put it in my hand just before...just before he..."

He took a deep, gulping breath and tried to compose himself. Hogan was barely keeping composure as well. Wilson has stopped trying to find a non-existent injury and was simply staring at LeBeau in plain disbelief. Kinch had sunk to the floor, his legs could not hold him as he took in the meaning of LeBeau's words. Carter stood at Hogan's side and looked to his commanding officer in confusion as he refused to hear the meaning in the words.

"But sir, that's Newkirk's cap. Why would he have it outside the wire with him? It doesn't make any sense, his cap is here, it's upstairs, Newkirk was wearing blacks when he left so that can't be his, otherwise he'd be here, he'd be with it, he'd be... he'd be..."

Carter rambled shakily until Hogan put an arm around his shoulders. Hogan didn't know that he was capable of comforting the young American yet but it seemed to quiet him some, at least slowing the ramble that had increasingly become more of a mumble. Carter quieted, but he still needed to understand.

"LeBeau," Carter asked quietly, "Where's Newkirk?"

LeBeau's already crumpled face somehow fell even further.

"Oh André," LeBeau's voice had never sounded as pained as it did forcing these words out, "I could not carry him. And he was gone."

There. It had been said out loud and it finally seemed to really sink in for all the men in the room that Corporal Peter Newkirk was not going to come down the tunnel entrance. Not ever again.


End file.
